Boss of Mine

“Call it what you want, but all I hear right now is you avoiding a question.”

“I'm not avoiding the question. I just don't think it really matters. I'm here, aren't I? Not in Ohio or anywhere else. I'm right here.”

“Does this mean you have a past that could creep up on you? An ex you want to avoid? A record you want hidden? What are you running from?”

“Who says I'm running?”

“The only people who move to the city are those looking to disappear in the crowd or those looking to become something they weren't before.” His eyes settle on mine as he tilts his head. “So, which one are you?”

I purse my lips, dropping my eyes to my drink. “It's nothing like that. I'm not running from some crazy ex or anything. I don’t know, maybe I am running from my past in a way. I suppose I'm the girl looking to start over.”

“What are you running from?”

“A past I failed at,” I say bluntly.

He cocks his head and arches a brow. “You're barely twenty-four, you haven't had time to truly fail at anything. You're just starting your life.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the people I disappointed. The people who were relying on me and I wasn't there for them.”

“I don't understand.”

My eyes flick between his as I exhale a slow breath. “When I was in college, I was part of this play. I always liked being on stage, being in the spotlight, and everything else that comes with it. But I screwed it all up. I ended up being late and missing the first act of a production. My friends were so upset with me they never forgave me. They wouldn't even talk to me anymore. I lost everything after that. The teacher wouldn't cast me in anymore plays, my grades started slipping because I couldn't focus. I became a disappointment to my parents because I barely passed. I was letting everyone down around me, and it was like there was nothing I could do to fix it no matter how hard I tried. My world that had been so promising crumbled around me. So, here I am. A new me, in a new place, at a new job, trying to build a new life.”

He's nodding along as he listens. Manu leans forward, reaching his hand over the table to take mine. He doesn't tell me I'm wrong for feeling the way I do. He doesn't tell me that I'm being stupid or dramatic or any of the other things my mother said. He doesn't tell me that all I had to do was try harder like my father had said. He just takes my hand and holds it.

I appreciate this. I like just being listened to and not disregarded. I like feeling validated without words. His eyes say it all. They tell me it's all right. They tell me I'm not crazy for wanting to start over. They tell me that here in this place, I can be whoever I choose to be.

“What part did you have in the play?”

“I was a dancer. It was ballet. I used to love ballet, and just dancing in general. I miss it, actually,” I say, my voice fading as I think back to when dancing was my life. I do really miss it. Sometimes I feel like a piece of my soul is gone because I don't have that anymore.

My ballet shoes are hung up in my closet, gathering dust. The thought sometimes crosses my mind to put them on, but I never do. If I touch them, every bad feeling comes rushing back.

“Show me,” he says.

“Show you what?”

“Your dancing. Show me.” Manu stands up and starts to pull on my hand. “There's a dance floor right there. Come on, let's go.”

“No, no, I can't. It's been so long since I've danced. I don't even think I remember how.”

“Yes, you do. I've seen you walking around the building and through the office. Your music in your ears, your body swaying ever so slightly. You remember, and even if you don't, your body does. Come on, let's dance.”

“I don't know,” I say, resisting him slightly and tugging back, trying to stay in my chair. “There's only a couple out there dancing.”

“Who cares? Come on, you're not getting out of this one.” He pulls on my hand again with a little more force.

Reluctantly, I stand and let him guide me to the dance floor. There are a few older couples slow dancing already. They're snuggling up and smiling, looking into each other's eyes with so much love.

You can see the time they share. The years together. The hurt and the pain, the happiness and the joy. It's all there, built within the crinkles at the corners of their eyes and the knots in their hands.